February 2012
10 posts
6 tags
Or Maybe He's Like A Figment Of My Imagination And...
First I wonder what’s the way he fucks you. Probably rough and rugged, like I never did, because that kind of sex is overrated and reminds me of porn where the women fake it and nobody seems to really care. Then I think of what kind of guy he is: blonde, or tall, or lanky, or brawn. I wonder if he’s the type to take you out to bars to watch ‘the game’? Maybe he’s...
8 tags
Sex And Love Addicts Anonymous: Melanie, Part II
A collection of short stories about the women I’ve never slept with.
Melanie’s skin pulses in the moonlight while her bright blonde hair shimmers against the feint glow of lamp post we pass on the way to my apartment. We are not alone; we’re not alone but I wish we were. Behind us trails heartbreak, hesitance, and three or four herertics stumbling on the nights high. Her...
4 tags
3 tags
Lazy Poetry Is Lazy IX
She said “Of all the idiots in the world, it just had to be you.” Which would be an insult if it weren’t for the softness in her kiss.
6 tags
Sorry Princess, Looks Like Your Mario Is In...
From the hospital you called, with an IV drip and trembling lip, to say you were sorry: admitting every midnight lie, backseat tryst, and blue eyed substitute because the men in lab coats colored like wet clouds said you were dying - dying from a tumorous spine and tumorous life. Surgery waits in twelve hours, surgery you may not wake up from, with not one of my replacements there to hold your...
5 tags
And Show Me How You Do That Thing With Your Tongue...
Teach me, love, how to hold your fears when arms and bodies are not enough. How my hands should run down your back to dip and curve and swoon and taste every nook of your kiss and each corner of your lips while I’m basting in your flesh to the edges of your skin, where the sum of your body and some of the world ends. Teach me, love, where my eyes should stare to wonder when you wander there,...
7 tags
Papa Don't Preach, I've Got My Own Shortcomings...
“Sometimes I take my glasses off,” he said curling a newspaper between his fingers. “Just to read, stretch my eyes. They’re like a muscle you know, your eyes. If you stretch them, work them out, they’ll get better.”
They aren’t a muscle. They aren’t a muscle and they’re just fucked. But I couldn’t tell him the fault was something in my genes, that he could somehow be responsible, or worse - that...
7 tags
You Didn't Care If My Shirt Was Namebrand Either
I remember you
like mosquito bites,
or gashes from that time I fell
going down Sutton’s Hill, and
you asked if I was ok,
laughing so hard you cried.
I wasn’t. But your smile
made me feel like I was.
The way we use to shrug at pain
I forgot.
4 tags
We Had A Relationship Based On Orgasms And...
She comes to me at night
like dreams, but not with wings or
clouds and fantasy; she comes with
feet, pulpy lips, a tired head,
frizzy hair, cold bones
for me to kiss.
Faint heart, feint heart.
Faint, heart - come rest
your bones with me.
No words,
no words,
just a touch to feel your needs.
6 tags
“Those who belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a...”
– Plato, The Republic